


And so I could have seen it coming

by Marishna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Divination, Fraud, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Kinda, M/M, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Psychic!Stiles, stiles is perceptive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marishna/pseuds/Marishna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, the thing was Lydia touted Stiles as a psychic (“Diviner,” Stiles would correct, firm in his conviction to not lapse into the grey area of semantics) and with her ruthless opportunity-seeking ways and his abilities they made a good team and enough money to not need <i>real</i> jobs. </p><p>Stiles “abilities” as whatever either of them wanted to call him were a complete farce, though.  He dreaded the day someone called him on it and he had to finally face up to the guilt of leading people on.</p><p>He was a charlatan, a carnival card reader.  He was nothing more than a farce and growing tired of feeling like he was fleecing good people out of their money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And so I could have seen it coming

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "omen" from 1_million_words on LJ.
> 
> This fic started as a brief idea and spiraled. I don't want to say there will be more because I don't know when more might happen but, speaking as the writer who wants to know what happens next, there SHOULD be more.
> 
> If/when things change I'll alter the details (pairing and rating & tag updates) as things progress.

“Lydia, I’m not doing this in my home town. I’m only going to be here for a few days, we can hit pause on the business for a second, okay? It’s the first time I’ve been home in three years, I want to spend it with my dad, not reading tea leaves for my neighbours.”  
 “Stiles, you’re missing a gold mine there!” Lydia’s voice came through loud and clear on the Bluetooth headset Stiles was wearing as he drove his rental into the limits of Beacon County. 

Crossing the county lines always gave him an odd feeling, a cross between a shiver and a settling in his soul. Like … _home_.

“Stiles!”

Stiles jerked the wheel a little as he snapped back to attention and righted himself, checking his mirrors quickly. “What, Lyds?”

“I was just saying that you have appointments all next week so anything you can find out about who we have lined up—“

“Lydia, you know I hate working that way. I know I’m cutting it close once I fly back but it’ll be fine, okay? You know I can read just fine blind.”

Lydia grumbled on the other end of the line but didn’t argue. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“One of these days…” Stiles started with a sigh.

“What?”

“Someone’s going to find out I’m a total fraud and we’re going to be in so much trouble,” Stiles finished, letting the guilt in.

“So you keep saying. But until that day comes we’re making bank. Or until I’m done with grad school.”

“Yes, Lydia,” Stiles replied with a small smile. “Talk to you later, okay?”

“I’ll Skype you!”

They disconnected their call and Stiles enjoyed the blissful silence, just tires rolling over the roads that would lead him home. 

As much as Stiles loved Lydia (at one time romantically but they both decided venturing down that road after one drunken naked night was Not a Good Idea and so the love was now thankfully very platonic) but he let himself be led by her ideas of fame and fortune too often. She wanted to push him to work more, get more exposure. Maybe a talk show which Stiles shut down in a heartbeat and with a flat, “no” that brooked no argument.

See, the thing was Lydia touted Stiles in Boston, where they were in grad school, as a psychic (“Diviner,” Stiles would correct, firm in his conviction to not lapse into the grey area of semantics) and with her ruthless opportunity-seeking ways and his abilities they made a good team and enough money to not need _real_ jobs. 

Stiles “abilities” as whatever either of them wanted to call him were a complete farce, though. He dreaded the day someone called him on it and he had to finally face up to the guilt of leading people on.

He was just good with details and noticing things. He could read facial expressions, body language and verbal cues. He was a charlatan, a carnival card reader. He was nothing more than a farce and growing tired of feeling like he was fleecing good people out of their money.

Gullible people, as Lydia pointed out, but good people nonetheless.

It started as a joke at a party, shortly into knowing Lydia who was his down the hall neighbour in his first apartment in Boston. The group they both somehow fell into was hanging out, drunk one night, and Stiles declared he had a party trick that would shock and astound everyone.

He doesn’t even remember what he said about everyone, one by one, as they begged for him to “do me, do me!” (that’s, regrettably, _not_ what she said). He remembered zeroing in on Lydia’s then-boyfriend Jackson, though, and he just _knew_.

 _“You’re cheating on her,”_ Stiles said suddenly.

He remembered Jackson’s face get red and angry.

Lydia’s face went from slyly interested in Stiles to furiously angry at Jackson.

Stiles’ face got punched.

And so a con was born.

***

Beacon Hills was both the same and different Stiles noticed as he rolled through town. Big things hadn’t changed but there were the little ones like a new stop light at the edge of town where there wasn’t before. A couple new stores, shiny new signs promoting this and that and the other thing. 

The town seemed… brighter? Stiles couldn’t put his finger on it. Spring was an okay time in Beacon Hills, once the grass started greening up from the winter and the trees and plants started to bud but the town struck him as… _Pleasantville_ , in a way. Post-color. 

He shrugged it off and breathed a sigh of relief once he pulled into the driveway, like he’d done so many times before in his life. But this time was the first in far too long and it was like his body settled into place. The jittery nerves he didn’t know he had settled into place, like dipping into a warm bath.

He grabbed his suitcase from the back of the rental and made his way to the front door. He was about to open it when it was pulled open and his dad stood in the doorway, beaming from ear to ear. Stiles dropped his suitcase and fell into John’s arms, holding each other almost too tight to breathe. 

“How heavy was that lead foot of yours, anyway?” His dad joked, pulling back so he could take a good look at his son.

Stiles just shrugged and grinned. He opened his mouth to reply but he saw a movement over his dad’s shoulder and Melissa came into view, smiling at Stiles from the kitchen. John glanced over and Stiles felt a _click_ of understanding.

“Holy crap, you two are dating,” Stiles blurted out. John paled for a second, then reached out to Melissa who came into the living room and interlaced her fingers with John’s.

“We didn’t want to tell you over the phone and you were planning on coming home for a visit anyway so we figured—“ John started.

Stiles cut him off. “This is _awesome_!”

“It is?” John asked skeptically.

“Well, yeah! Do you know how long Scott and I wanted you two to hook up when we were in high school? Took you long enough! Does Scott know?”

“We asked him not to tell you, sweetheart,” Melissa answered, sounding apologetic. “We weren’t sure if it would upset you.” Stiles waved his hand and stepped forward to sweep her up in a hug, letting her familiar scent wash over him. 

She was the only mom he’d known for the majority of his life, after his mom passed, and it seemed like his dad would always be too sad to ever move on. Knowing his dad was finally allowing himself to be happy was worth the trip home alone.

***

“So Stiles,” Melissa said over dinner that night, smiling fondly across the table at him. “When are you coming home?”

“Uh—“ Stiles started but Scott cut in.

“He’s not moving back here! Why would he leave Boston to come back to Beacon Hills?” Scott snorted.

“You’re in Beacon Hills, dude,” Stiles replied, reaching out to punch his best friend lightly on the arm.

“You’d come back here for me?” Scott asked, eyes lighting up. Stiles snorted a little.

 “I don’t know if or when I’m coming back, to be honest. I have another couple months left of my thesis to get through and then I don’t know. I’m not ruling it out but it depends on the job offers,” Stiles said, thinking about Lydia and her desire to go bigger and splashier with Stiles’ “talent”.

“The good news is that Danny and I have stayed in touch over the years and he’s talked about sending some security work my way, once I have my degree under my belt. I could do that from anywhere, ideally, so I haven’t closed any doors.”

“That’s good, son. Glad to hear you have some options. And your room is always open, of course,” John told him and even though Stiles knew that was something that could remain unspoken he appreciated it all the same. 

Truth be told he hadn’t thought much about moving home or even visiting Beacon Hills again until a couple months prior after a particularly vivid dream after his 24th birthday woke him, gasping and sweating through his t-shirt. 

The memory of the fire still sent chills down his spine, even as he sat safe and content with his family. If he closed his eyes he knew he’d be able to feel the heat from the flames that threatened to lick at his skin, could hear the echoes of screams in his ears that were so haunting it made him want to heave.

“Stiles?” 

Stiles blinked and looked around to see Scott staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, what? Got a little lost there,” Stiles said, laughing lightly. “Must be jet lag or something.”

Stiles listened to Scott ask if he’d stop by the clinic the next day so he could show him how he’d moved up from assistant to tech to almost full-fledged veterinarian. But he didn’t miss the way John watched him with a thoughtful expression on his face.

***

Stiles stopped by the veterinarian’s office the next day to say hi to Scott on his way to the store, just as he’d promised the night before. The last time he’d been there Scott was merely an assistant, interning with Dr. Deaton just like he had in high school but with more technical skill and now he was a co-partner with the man.

Stiles wasn’t sure if it was because it’d been so long since the last time he’d been home and he was used to a different city, a different daily routine and way of living, but everywhere he went in town felt odd to him. The second he stepped through the door of the vet clinic he felt a tingling down his spine, like being too close to a lightning storm.

The girl behind the counter was new, snapped her gum and didn’t look up from her riveting game of Candy Crush as Stiles stepped up. Stiles waited for a second, then reached out and rang the bell like a dick.

Desk girl slowly turned her head up and looked at him with an expression that was half boredom, half “I’ll rip every finger off your hand”. She was wearing a short black skirt and a bright red tank top that left next to nothing to the imagination, covered by a lab jacket that Stiles knew she only wore because Deaton made her. 

“Can I help you?” she asked icily.

“I doubt it, but you can try,” Stiles replied with a wide grin. “I just need to stick my head in the back and see Scott for a second.”

She stared at him, playing with a piece of her long blonde hair.

“Dr. McCall?” Stiles tried.

More staring.

“Right. Anyway, good talk.” Stiles reached over the short wall and flipped the latch for the gate that separated the front and exam areas. 

Still more staring but once Stiles passed over the threshold she went back to her game. But Stiles knew she wasn’t really paying attention to it any more.

Stiles poked his head in a couple rooms before he found Scott tending to a litter of kittens, all mewling and crawling on his arm as he scooped them out of their cage, one at a time.

“Hey dude! Come on in!” 

“Thought I’d better come see my best friend be a defender of the tiniest creatures. And if I waited for the guard dog at the front to actually do something I’d still be out there,” Stiles replied. Scott looked confused for a second, then laughed.

“Oh, you mean Erica? Yeah, she’s odd. But Deaton hired her and she’s cool to me so I don’t mind too much. She’s usually nice, though.”

“Usually,” Stiles snorted.

Scott shrugged and handed a couple kittens off to Stiles who took them without complaint. Stiles sat down on the floor without hesitation and allowed the furry monsters crawl all over him, getting their tiny claws snagged in his jeans and t-shirt, mewling and trying to climb up to his neck where they wanted to snuggle. 

Scott and Stiles talked a little but Scott _was_ at his job and so Stiles leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He listened to Scott mumble to himself under his breath as he examined the kittens he was holding and Stiles felt the tiny purring bodies he was cradling in the crook of his neck as they kneaded him gently. The tiny pricks from their claws was actually soothing and Stiles relaxed, letting his mind wander.

It felt like he was dreaming, almost, when he heard voices that couldn’t possibly be in the room with him but he could hear them, clear as a bell. 

Deaton and… someone else. Somewhere in the building and Stiles could hear them talking.

Deaton was trying to calm the other person he was talking with. _“The signs are getting stronger but I don’t know what to tell you, Derek. I’m trying to track down who the mage is but it’s not an easy thing—“_

“ _I **know**_ ,” the other person _growled_ and Stiles heard what sounded like a fist hitting something, maybe a wall.

 _”Well that won’t solve anything,_ ” Deaton replied in that dry tone Stiles knew all too well from hanging out in the clinic all through high school with Scott.

The other person sighed, deep and loud. Champion sigh. Frustrated and hovering on the tenuous line of control. 

“ _What do we do if the mage isn’t found?”_ That was asked in a whisper, low and rushed and anxious and Stiles could feel the stress seeping through the walls, crawling into his own body.

_”I’ll do everything I can as your emissary, I promise. I’ll never stop searching for the mage, you know that. And in the meantime I’m going to reach out for help to protect the pack. You won’t have to leave your home again, I promise.”_

Stiles opened his eyes with a gasp and Scott looked over at him weirdly. “You okay, buddy?”

Stiles shook his head. “Yeah. I— yeah. I think I fell asleep for a second.”

“You’re getting old,” Scott teased and Stiles gave him the finger before he picked up the two kittens who were reluctant to let go of him. He handed them over to Scott and gave him a jaunty salute.

“I’m out. See you for dinner, right?”

“Kira and I will be there,” Scott said, beaming. It was the first time Stiles was going to meet the girlfriend in person and Stiles was as excited as Scott was to have them meet. From the first picture Stiles saw of Kira and Scott he knew they were in it for the long haul.

Stiles opened the door to the room, then turned back. “Hey, bathroom is still down the hall, right?”

Scott nodded and Stiles left without another word. He had to pee.

And see if he could find where those voices came from.

And pee.

Sure.

The clinic was small overall, there weren’t many places for people to hang out and have conversations about weird things Stiles had no idea what they were about but understood in a weird way. He passed the bathroom that was reserved for staff only and kept going to the end of the hall but found nothing out of the ordinary.

He thought about slipping out the emergency exit, not really keen on passing by the guard dog receptionist at the front, but shrugged. He was an adult, after all. He could deal with hot Judy-Attitudies now. 

He refrained from slapping himself on the forehead and walked with purpose back down the hallway to the front. He was going to make a beeline for the front door, maybe toss out a, “bye, thanks!” to her on the way by and then—

One of the doors opened and Stiles walked into a wall.

The wall grabbed him, though, and Stiles realized he’d walked into another person. A very tall, hard-bodied person. Stiles flailed a little and covered their arms to catch his balance as they gripped him under the elbows and all he could smell was _smoke_.

Stiles gasped and gripped tighter as his senses were assaulted with the screaming again, the voices shrieking for help as they tried in vain to escape out of the basement windows that were protected somehow. The heat was too much for Stiles to bear and his legs buckled under him. He was held upright by the stranger who clutched him close and Stiles could distantly hear him yell for Deaton.

The smoke was choking him, the smell of charred wood everywhere at first but then totally overtaken by an acrid chemical smell that just didn’t _fit_. 

And then the flesh.

Stiles dry heaved in the hallway, thinking he was going to be embarrassed as hell when he came back to himself.

The stranger never let go of him.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed and how long he was trapped in that horrible vision but the next thing Stiles realized as a thought of his own was laying on the floor in the hallway with a cold compress on his forehead. The cool tile felt amazing against his back.

His hand hurt, though, and he looked over to see he was gripping the stranger’s hand so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He tried to pull his hand away but the stranger wouldn’t let go until Stiles frowned and shook him off. 

Stiles looked up and saw Scott, Deaton and the front desk girl all staring down at him with varying expressions of concern and interest.

“Um?” Stiles tried.

Deaton turned to the stranger who was sitting on the floor with Stiles, who finally looked up to see who he’d run into.

He seemed hulking beside Stiles’ prone body, all dark and broody with muscles and leather and perfect hair and stubble. He was glaring but his eyes were darting wildly between Deaton and Stiles, veering wildly from hopeful to wary in a split second. 

And they were occasionally flaring to a vibrant blue colour that Stiles was sure wasn’t natural outside of Hollywood CGI.

“Derek Hale, meet Stiles Stilinski. I believe you just met your mage.”


End file.
